


stress relief

by heroin__e



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: (technically) - Freeform, Blow Jobs, M/M, Public Blow Jobs, because he is a kind and caring boyfriend, prompto blows iggy under his desk to relieve some tension, written for Promnis Week next week but i'm posting this now bc why not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-05 21:40:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17332844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heroin__e/pseuds/heroin__e
Summary: Here's the thing: Ignis adores Prompto.He is the literal, physical incarnation of sunshine. He makes awful days bearable, sub-par days things to remember. He gets up early every damn morning when he has nowhere to go till noon just to make Ignis' coffee for him. Last Tuesday he brought flowers after work for Ignis just because he thought he'd like to see how Ignis reacted, in case it would be something he'd like to have on birthdays and such. He is ethereal, stunning, bubbly, kind, and, on particular bad days, the boy can do wonders with his mouth.Or, Prompto blows Ignis at work. Because he's a good boyfriend, y'see.





	stress relief

**Author's Note:**

> this was originally for the promnis week which starts next week but!!! i wanted to post it rn haha bc i took the prompts but i wanna write em at my own pace and. yeah i wanted to post it now since its been a second since i posted smth 
> 
> also i love promnis. i love them so fucking much. pls talk to me about them ; _ ;

Here's the thing: Ignis _adores_ Prompto.

He is the literal, physical incarnation of sunshine. He makes awful days bearable, sub-par days things to remember. He gets up early every damn morning when he has nowhere to go till noon just to make Ignis' coffee for him. Last Tuesday he brought flowers after work for Ignis just because he thought he'd like to see how Ignis reacted, in case it would be something he'd like to have on birthdays and such. He is ethereal, stunning, bubbly, kind, and, on particular bad days, the boy can do wonders with his mouth.

“Prompto,” Ignis begins, trying so, so hard to sound casual with Prompto's hands skimming over his thighs. “While I most certainly appreciate your enthusiasm, might I suggest we try for a bit of… discretion today?”

“Ah,” goes Prompto, his shoulders shrugging and his lips twisting into a smirk – or perhaps it would be more apt to call it a shit-eating grin. “We could. But – why? I got this stud of a boyfriend, and he's had a hard day at work, and his boss is my best buddy who I just got an IM from saying how tired he is and how he really thinks he's gonna need to take a rest--”

“To call Noctis my boss is an insult to me, the King, and to Gladio,” interrupts Ignis, and while he levels his lover with a pointed, unimpressed look by that remark, they both know he's actually very, very impressed all around.

“--and you know me, I said, buddy, go for it! Rest those eyes. You can do princely stuff all the live long day tomorrow.” Here, Prompto casually begins undoing the clasp of Ignis' belt, his eyes closed, recanting the conversation he had with Noctis as if he can see the crown prince now. “And he goes, wow, Prom, you're so right. And, hey, I figure – two birds, one stone right? Noctis rest's his princely peepers, and I get the opportunity to drop in on my very, very busy boyfriend, who I'm sure could use some kind of breather, hm?”

Breather, he says, as Ignis lets his hips rise so that Prompto can shimmy him out of his fine, fitted pants. Some kind of breather, he says, letting his hands fit over Ignis' hips, gripping with some happy, teasing sort of energy that easily reaches his eyes – the same pretty, violet eyes that flit between the crinkle in Ignis' brow and the obvious tent in his pants, like he's not sure which one he'd rather take a picture of.

“You are an imp,” says Ignis eventually, resigned to his boyfriends powers of persuasion. The 'p' in imp has yet to pop past his lips, and Prompto is already shimmying around from his spot on his knees in a makeshift victory dance. He let's his palms slide up past Ignis' hips, letting his pressed couerl-print shirt untuck itself completely, and he likes part kid in a candy store, part cat who caught the canary.

Yes, Prompto certainly has a way with his mouth. And the wild part is, for all that it severely rocks Ignis' world, it always seems like Prompto is the one acting like he got away the winner.

“What is it you called me that one time? An evil sex imp?” Prompto nuzzles his nose against the pressing bulge in Ignis' briefs, trying for coy, but coming off like he's giving an eskimo kiss to a dick.

“Yes,” goes Ignis, threading his gloved fingers through Prompto's blond locks, “because you have the innate ability to coerce me into sex any time you like.”

“Coerce,” parrots Prompto, and his eyebrows rise up. He's clearly unimpressed, and taking Ignis' dick out of his pants. “That's the word you're using? I'm gonna pretend I didn't just hear you fighting having your dick sucked, bucko.”

Ignis wants to say something to the effect of, is that just because you're the one who's mouth is watering for this, but Prompto's lips have found the head of his dick, and is pressing a soft kiss to the tip, which turns into a languid lick upright, which turns into Prompto swirling his velvet tongue underneath the head until Ignis can't hold back the choke of a moan that comes out of his throat.

“What wassat?” Slurs the blond, his head tilted to press tiny little kisses down the side of Ignis' shaft. He licks upward, pulls back, takes the tip inside his hot, wet mouth, and sucks, hard, until Ignis gasps. When Prompto pulls off, it's slow, and tortuous. “Sorry, baby, can you speak up?”

Ignis knows what game he's playing. It's the _turn the tables on Iggy, whose shit is always under lock and key_ , _and make him lose his marbles for once game_. And honestly, it's a game Ignis likes playing, too, more often than not. But with blowjobs from Prompto, this game becomes downright torture. And right now, Ignis can't stop from remembering his partner's initial text, consisting of: “Lemme pop over, then. I'll be quick.”

Collecting himself, Ignis realizes he's tipped his head back in an attempt to steel his own breath. When he lowers it, slow, and steady, he sees the length of his cock resting on Prompto's face. Prompto, whose mouth is open, tongue is laid flat against the underside of Ignis' dick, and whose hazy violet eyes are staring up into Ignis' own evergreen.

“You're a brat,” says Ignis, and though it is something of a slap on the wrist, it is still dripping with affection. He takes his dick in hand and let's it fall back unto Prompto's face, who seems to enjoy that, if the way he closes his eyes and sighs, all heady pleasure, tells enough.

“Let me come see you, Iggy,” mocks the advisor. He tips Prompto's head back by the chin; feeds his dick into the pocket of one rosy cheek. “Just to cheer you up, Iggy. You little minx. Selfish boy. You're just here to get your fix.”

Prompto hums around the cock in his mouth, which is no answer to Ignis' accusation, and Ignis is hardly sure he's even paying attention to words to know what was said. What he is paying attention to, Ignis is sure, is the salty taste leaking unto his waiting tongue. Ignis presses his free thumb unto Prompto's plump bottom lip and lets his dick sit solidly on that tongue, moving his hips only slightly to feel the friction.

Prompto sits on his knees, between Ignis' feet, face hot and flushed, and mouth hanging open for Ignis to do as he pleases with. The blond moans, heavy and hot and loud, when Ignis feeds more of it down the length of his tongue. Prompto closes his lips around length of his lover, because he likes the feeling of cock stretching his lips, and because he knows Ignis likes the look of it.

“Doing a fine job, darling.” Above him, Ignis simply lets his dick rest in Prompto's mouth, petting the hair out of his face and liking the way his red, red cheeks have just one or two tear stains on them. “Quite the distraction, you are. Consider my mood vastly improved.”

Never one to be outdone, Prompto takes the opportunity to shimmy his face forward. His nose hit's the skin of Ignis' pelvis, and when he's sure he's got a good grip on that spot he's in, Prompto swallows. Ignis responds in kind with a low groan, and letting his hand find home in the base of the blond's skull. Not gripping, simply holding, encouraging, thanking. Until Prompto does it again, and bobs his head that little bit – then maybe there's a second where Ignis's gloved fingers tangle up in those soft locks, and that low groan turns into a quick growl.

If they were at home, Ignis might be a little bit more liberal with how he's talking to his lover. He knows Prompto loves hearing him babble, go on and on, about how bad or good Prompto is, about how lovely he is, about what a slut he is. And there's something about watching those pretty violet eyes glaze over that makes Ignis wanna talk more, tell him all those things and then some. But they aren't home. They're in the citadel. In Ignis' locked office in the citadel, but the citadel nonetheless. He wants to grab Prompto by the hair and tell him what a filthy boy he is is there, but not one he can act on. Maybe tonight, if Prompto doesn't suck his soul right out of his dick here and now.

Prompto doesn't seem to be thinking about where they are, though. He's gotta one track mind and right now the only thing running that track is sucking cock. Ignis never asked if his deepthroating abilities were a natural gift or something he trained himself in to, but watching his dick disappear behind those plump pink lips of Prompto's again and again makes him not care, honestly.

Ignis cradles the side of his partners face and hums, appreciative, as Prompto keeps his steady, deep pace – bobbing shallowly at first, and then moving his head from tip to base in languid strokes. “That's a good boy,” he purrs, and he loves that Prompto's eyebrows knit together at that. He can hear the gears turning in the younger boy's head practically, torn between wanting to nuzzle into that leather on his cheek, and sucking more of the taste of his lover deep into his throat.

“I'm sure your jaw hurts,” coos Ignis, his eyes fluttering for a moment as he attempts to keep his composure. “No worries, dear. I'll – aah – take care of you later.” That earns him a moan around his cock, as Prompto swallows hard, struggling to keep from panting. “Would you like that? You lovely, awful thing. Beautiful boy.”

“Iggy,” goes Prompto, gasping into the hand on his cheek. “I want you to come,” he says, like he's the one getting his dick sucked and desperate for it. “Don't make me stop, babe, I wanna taste you and I wanna--”

“Prompto, I have some reservations about doing anything more on Citadel property.” Ignis swoops his thumb across Prompto's lip, and the blond takes it into his mouth and sucks the pad of it like it'll help parch his throat and he's dying of thirst. “Don't take this the wrong way, love, but I doubt you'd be able to keep quiet if--”

Prompto slaps his hand away – the blond having the nerve to act bratty in the spot he's in. “I'm not asking you to fuck me, Igs,” he goes, and gets back into position on his knees, comfortable and at eye-level with Ignis' dick. He latches on to the side of it, and the method isn't slow and languid like when he's savoring the taste. It's frantic, the pace he uses to drive Ignis up the wall. “Just want you to come in my mouth.”

Ignis groans, the loudest he has since this endeavor began. It seems, for all intents and purposes, Prompto's kid gloves are off. “A man on a mission,” he quips, and leans back, getting comfortable himself, and finding the perfect vantage spot to watch Prompto get to work.

“What'd you call me, earlier?” goes Prompto, and when he presses his tongue into the weeping slit of Ignis' dick, Ignis makes a noise like he's been struck. “A minx? Know you love it when you talk dirty to me, baby.”

With a chuckle, Ignis pet's the back of his partner's head again, and lovingly makes for him to choke on his dick. “Shut that mouth, chatterer.”

Shut it he does, too. Prompto, elevated on his knees and both hands on Ignis' dick now, closes his lips, opens his throat, and damn near sinks down to the hilt. He swallows when Ignis cries out at the feeling, then does it again, and once more, before he pops off with a punch-drunk look on his face and Ignis' shiny pre hanging from his lips. “I'd make you come on my face if I didn't wanna embarrass you at the work-place,” he quips, and makes a show of licking his chops.

“Make me?” parrots Ignis, and he's about to reach across and squeeze Prompto's neck when he realizes he's not home yet. He'll have to rise to Prompto's teasing games at a later hour, when he can let the blond goad him into being as loud and unkempt as he wants. “That sounds like quiet big talk for a slut who hasn't made me come yet.”

It's just the right thing to say – the bit about being a slut for it. It was Prompto almost going weak, and he whines, even. “You owe me so hard later,” he goes, and when he ducks down, it's to bite at Ignis' toned thighs to make a path back up to the trimmed curls at the base of his dick. “Can't believe I even got so hot over blowing you at work, ugh. Can't believe you let me, to be honest--”

“Don't push your luck, love,” warns Ignis, and he must say, there's something nice to sitting back so relaxed, in a chair he usually sits ramrod straight in, letting this pretty blond thing take his dick down his throat again and again until it's fat and purple. Until Prompto looks like he's gonna come in his pants just from being allowed to have a taste.

The flat of Prompto's tongue drags up and circles around Ignis' head again. Ignis isn't one who normally likes facefucking, but Prompto is well on his way to changing that. He's been working the advisor up and down and back and forth since he sauntered in and got himself underneath Ignis' desk, and the pressure, and the warmth, and Prompto, is just shy of not enough – just shy of being able to actually get him there.

Usually, Prompto loves this. Because he loves giving head and he likes working cock at his own pace, but Ignis has an inhuman level of self-control (and, yeah, maybe that was part of the appeal of the fantasy of coming in and sucking him off this way. Maybe he kinda wanted someone to come in while Ignis' perfect dick was in his mouth and watch him pretend nothing was the matter – test those limits, even. But, Prompto will admit, even just the thrill of being in the citadel is enough to kinda get him going). But this time, when Ignis flexes his hands in those sexy leather gloves and takes a grip of his hair, pulling him flush to his pelvis, Prompto's into it. He likes the show of control, likes the way those nimble fingers fist in his hair, and he moans.

“That's it,” sighs Ignis, and he just rolls hips up, not letting Prompto go. Prompto's smaller hands find purchase on Ignis' thighs and all he can do is swallow around the offending organ in his mouth, and enjoy the light-headed feeling sex with Ignis leaves him with. “Good boy, almost done.”

Said like it's a chore – like Ignis had pushed himself unto Prompto. God, that's so hot. Good boy? Ha, Prompto'll show him good boy later. He feels his head move up, only because Ignis is guiding him, and he almost gags when Ignis shoves him down to soon, but Prompto's never been a quitter, and once he finds the right angle to keep his head at, he braces himself on those strong, toned thighs, and let's the advisor facefuck the tension of his job, his ward, his life, right out of him.

And the best part is feeling that tension rise in Ignis. Feeling the muscles in his thighs get tighter and tighter, the grip on Prompto's head get stronger and stronger, until Ignis is holding him down and grinding the tip of his dick into the back of Prompto's throat and coming right into his mouth with a small growl and low sigh.

Ignis feels the tension just seep out of him with his orgasm, and before he can even apologize for the rough treatment, Prompto's already gasping to get off his dick, his hand up to stop what Ignis was going to say. Always one to follow instructions, Ignis simply purses his lips until his lover has caught his breath enough to speak.

And when he does catch his breath, Prompto flashes him his usual killer, charming smile, from between Ignis' legs, and slaps his calf, as if the two of them had just played some friendly sport and Prompto is congratulating him on a game well played. “Feel better?” is all he says, his smile something like a gigawatt flash.

Ignis takes note of his body, in a split second, and finds he feels nothing but intense, bone-deep affection for the blond on the floor. He gives his sweaty head a kiss, and says, “You are ridiculous.”

And then, after a beat, he confesses, “...much.”

**Author's Note:**

> there was an alternate ending where cor comes in and prompto makes to blow iggy again under the desk and ignis also sees his whole life flash before his eyes while pretending everything is fine with cor but it felt kinda... disjointed? oh well! 
> 
> talk to me about promnis on twitter at @ladyoracIe !!


End file.
